


i dont believe in time (royalty)

by guybuddyfriend



Category: South Park
Genre: Drinking, IHOP, M/M, Well - Freeform, anyway, because im sensitive and gay and everything is shit, but in the most ungroovy and unappealing way, dennys bashing, drunk make-out sesh, i talk about it, same shit different day, theres no sex, you know the drill
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-08-31
Updated: 2016-08-31
Packaged: 2018-08-12 02:47:52
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,798
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7917442
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/guybuddyfriend/pseuds/guybuddyfriend
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>david picks up kyle from the airport and they go for breakfast. plot development is for chumps ¯\_(ツ)_/¯</p>
            </blockquote>





	i dont believe in time (royalty)

**Author's Note:**

  * For [MarcoBodtsChickenNuggets](https://archiveofourown.org/users/MarcoBodtsChickenNuggets/gifts).



> here you are guy

By the time the digital clock in his car hits 3:35 am, David has already learned that he fucking hates himself. He’s had the radio on for the last two hours but no matter how hard he tries he can’t recall one song and he swears to the Virgin Mary if that meter maid or what the fuck ever they’re called even thinks about thinking about making his rounds again he’ll absolutely fucking lose it. He sees it in the reflection of the man’s stupid fucking sunglasses- he’s working up the courage to walk back around the long line of cars coating the outside of the airport terminal building to send them off, “ _Loading zone only! Can’t park here!”_ and don’t get him wrong. David understands. He doesn’t _want_ to be pissy and whiny and he _understands_ that the guy’s just doing his job but if he’s a hundred percent honest with himself here he can’t find it within himself to give two shits. The airport is forty-five minutes from the centre of town, another ten from Kyle’s house and _another_ fifteen from his own, and he’s been circling the airport for an hour and he’d gotten a text twenty minutes ago from Kyle saying they weren’t getting off the plane for thirty minutes and _here comes the fucking meter maid fuck fuck fuck-_

“Sir, you can’t park here,” the muffled voice comes through the window with three reluctant knocks as David throws the car into drive.

“I know, I’m going,” he sighs, shoving the lever upwards and sending the blinkers clicking. He pulls out and steps on it, passing the officer and the other five cars waiting in a line at the loading station. Leaning back, he curls his arm around the wheel and rolls down the window. The car curves around the long, smooth road under the dusky indigo sky and David stares ahead, losing himself in thought. He’s tired, he hadn’t slept at all the night before out of something akin to excitement and dread, he’s got twists in his stomach and his heart is aching. The lamps hanging over the road are a warm yellow and he lets his eyes stray to the long caches of light stretching across the four lanes. He’s missed Kyle more than he’d really like to admit, and though the summer had been filled with long nights spent with friends and family, nothing really compared to spending time with Kyle.

David sighs and follows the signs back into the airport loading area, the expansive grey landscape pulling another sigh from his chest. He feels so little more than exhaustion and a long, pensive emotion he can’t quite name that he barely registers that he hasn’t eaten in more the 24 hours and that his eyes are tingling with the lack of sleep and that his foot falls a little too heavily on the brake when he pulls in next to the curb. His head almost hits the steering wheel and his eyes snap open- he barely registered that they’d closed. He takes a long, deep breath and shakes himself. _That’s enough_ , he thinks. He waits for three cars to pass and park ahead of him and he pulls out of his spot. His car sputters a little on the long stretch of grey-purple asphalt, but he just presses harder on the gas and pulls into the right lane under the bright blue sign.

He takes the dip onto the ramp with a trembling feeling in his stomach and a yawn, wheeling to a stop beside the grey ticket machine. He fishes his wallet from his back pocket and stretches a long, lean arm out the window to slide his card in. It charges him $3.75, fucking highway robbery if you ask him, and he feels a sudden panic rising in his throat when it doesn’t spit out the little slip of paper immediately. Finally, his card comes through the slot and he pulls it out with a debilitating click, snatches his _very expensive_ ticket from the damn thing and turns his eyes to the big, dark hole he’s about to drive into. The red and white barrier raises and he scoots through, drenched in the darkness of a concrete underground parking lot. David’s eyes adjust as he takes the hard turn up the ramp to the second level of the lot. He almost pulls into a handicapped spot, but sees the blue paint at the last second under the yellowing light of his headlights, cusses and reverses out. He takes the next spot a little too fast, screeches to a stop and almost slams his head against the wheel again. He stares, wide-eyed into the cement barrier ahead and takes a long, deep breath.

It’s 3:36 according to the analog clock hanging at the far end of the lot. The last two and a half weeks have all been like this, actually. He’s been dazed, barely awake and just going through the motions. His mother had actually taken him off waitstaff and put him in the back, because he couldn’t even remember to bring diners their water half the time these last whatever, eighteen days. He’s a fucking mess, and his parents had noticed, but he couldn’t tell them what was up. He didn’t even _know_ what was up. He’d waved off Clyde and Jimmy when they asked him last Tuesday if he’d wanted to come with them to the mall, he’d missed the movie he said he’d see with Token and Tweek on Saturday, he’d skipped Stan’s get together with Kenny, Butters and Cartman this Wednesday and there was a party tonight that he was pretty sure he’d rather actually spoon out his own kidneys than show up to.

He throws the car into park, rests his head on the wheel and closes his eyes. He breathes very deeply and pulls his keys out of the ignition, the digital clock flashing 3:42 before shutting off. Spilling out of the car, he stretches, long limbs tensing and releasing muscles. He cracks his neck, shakes out his shoulders and turns, body adjusting to the sudden addition of fresh air and space to move. David tosses his torso back into the car, snatches his backpack off the passenger seat and throws the door closed. He stalks towards the glass doors leading into the airport, locking his car with a strangely satisfying double beep. As soon as the automatic doors slide open, David feels much more awake. His heart starts beating again and his eyes don’t itch, his lungs are expanding as he breathes in and it feels like the beginning of summer, before Kyle went away and before everything felt lazy and humid.

He takes the stairs instead of the elevator up and takes them two at a time, his blood rushing in his ears and his body taking each stride with opening joints and adrenaline-filled springs. David hits the top of the stairs and is met with a huge, white-tiled foyer, a coffee shop and a liquor store and just beyond, a carpeted expanse with three suitcase carousels. One of them is already moving with cases spinning, but there are no people snatching things from it. There are scatterings of people in line, in chairs, on the floor and standing next to the carousel but all of them look bored. David sighs, his mind settling, and steps into line at the coffee shop.

He checks his phone and it’s 3:49 am, four minutes after the time Kyle told him they’d debark the plane. The line empties quickly, and by 3:51 he’s face to face with the barista, ordering a medium cappuccino, a bagel, a large back tea and a blueberry muffin from the woman without making eye contact. He slips his backpack off his shoulder and tosses his wallet in after he’s paid, knowing it’ll be easier to drive later without the thick leather pressing against his ass. She hands him the muffin right away, and he takes his bagel over the counter at the end. He takes a step back and waits while the other two people receive their coffees, and takes his own two with a tray. He presses the cups into diagonal spots and pulls the muffin from the paper bag it was handed to him in. He puts the bagel and the muffin into the other two slots and pulls away from the counter. Sliding his tray onto the separate island counter boasting milk, cream and sugar, he selects two packets of Sunett and dumps them both into the then clumsily re-capped tea. He walks uncertainly towards the carpeted hall and chooses a pillar with no one around it. He presses his back to the cold metal and slides to the floor, placing the cardboard tray beside him as he stretches his legs out in front of him.

It’s 4:02 in the morning and he tugs his cappuccino free from the hole. He takes a long sip, the hot espresso hitting his lip and then soothed by the thick foam. He sighs and lets his head tip back, breathing in deeply through is nose. He lets himself doze for a moment, hand curled around the paper cup on the floor. When he comes to, it’s 4:08 and there is motion around him. David blinks, blearily looking around. He takes another swig of his coffee and slides it back into its slot. He pulls his feet under him and stands, taking the paper tray with him and slinging his backpack over his left shoulder. He scans the faces as they slink down the escalator and the stairs, eyes flicking around for a shock of bright red hair and ears straining for his name.

It’s at least 4:10 before David sees him- tall, soft and regal looking, hair looking soft and unstyled, like he’d spent the last day running his hands through it, long arms draped in even longer sleeves, the hem of his shirt drooping to mid-thigh, tights wrapping taut calves and tucked into white sneakers. His backpack is hanging heavily off his shoulders and he clutches his hat in his hand, arms crossed and hip leaning against the escalator railing. David can see the exhaustion on his face and feels his own drain away.

He takes four long strides forwards and raises his right arm in an open-palm indication of his location. Kyle’s eyes, tired and lazy, instantly catch the hand and follow the arm down to the face. His eyes brighten and he is awake; Kyle immediately moves to his left and steps down the escalator flight, past all the people staring ahead dazedly, past miniature carry-on luggage pieces, past a lady holding a tiny dog, past a pair of twins holding their father’s hands and takes the last four stairs in a sprint. David staggers back at the force of the motion and (thank God) has the good sense to put the coffee down on the floor.

He strides forwards with arms sweeping around and up and Kyle’s chest smacks into his with an almost brutal force and David is reeling, Kyle’s biceps are flat on David’s shoulders and forearms are locked around the back of his neck and David is staring straight up into deep russet eyes and he feels his soul emerge from his chest and he doesn’t know whose air belongs to whose lungs and he can smell Kyle’s shampoo and he knows his breath tastes like coffee and Kyle is solid and warm and there’s a laugh bubbling up from his chest and Kyle is grinning down at him like he’s the only thing he wanted to see in the entire world and David can barely breathe with the excitement of it all-

“Is that for me?” Kyle’s head snaps to his right and stares with an intense focus at the paper cups and treats beside them. David laughs and releases him, scooping the ten dollar breakfast up and turning the tray so Kyle is presented with his muffin and tea. He snatches the cup out of the container and takes a long pull, barely even registering that it’s probably lukewarm because it’s now 4:14, a full 12 minutes since it was made.

Kyle stares into David’s actual own two eyes and pulls away from the cup, a string of saliva connecting his lower lip to the white plastic, eyes half-lidded and a molten bronze, branding David’s soul and searing across his heart. Nothing in the universe has ever existed before this moment and nothing will ever exist again, not with seashell-coloured skin coated in amber freckles and light, coarse hairs or with deep carmine curls twisting around corpulent cheeks and brushing against a strong roman nose or with long, thick fingers that curve around paper tea cups and backpack straps with a kind of desperate urgency mixed with natural grace or soft, fat lips glossed with heat and saliva and tongue and tea and framed with toothpaste smudges or strong, thick legs that meet at the thigh and run up to a soft, malleable stomach covered in the same light, coarse hair tinted maroon or long white scars that run up past a rounded chest or the same ones that stretch horizontally across a back and pair of thighs and set of shoulders that grew too quickly for this flesh beneath and around to keep up and David is dying to feel it all under his tongue-

“Dude, I’m fucking starving, give me the muffin,” Kyle’s voice hums through David’s consciousness before the words take effect at 4:15. He’s clutching the muffin in his fist; he’d been halfway to handing it to Kyle before getting lost in thought. It’s squished in his palm now, a deformed disaster, but Kyle eyes him with a smirk and trades it for the half-empty paper cup now. He brushes past David with an airy snicker and pulls the muffin apart with his fingers, sliding tufts of bread between his lips. David follows doggedly, and the pair stand before the carousel and watch for Kyle’s suitcase. Kyle watches for the suitcase. David watches Kyle watch for the suitcase. Kyle pretends to watch for the suitcase while actually watching David watch him watch for the suitcase. Neither of them watch for the suitcase and it passes them both four times.

After centuries of slow, seductive eating, Kyle finishes his stupid fucking muffin and crumples the wax paper in his hand. His eyes snap to the carousel and he makes a dash for his suitcase, one of the twenty left on the belt. A woman sees him going for his bag and pushes her cart forward, giving him an eye and clearly not wanting him to dash in front of her. Kyle jumps the cart and hauls the little black rectangle out from between two large, red cases, stumbling back and almost tripping over the woman’s cart. She shoves him with one arm and sneers. He dodges around her when she huffs and stalks through the band of people, huffing back. David ducks after him with a muttered apology to the woman, scooping up the dropped ball of wax paper from Kyle’s muffin. He catches up with Kyle fifteen feet from the belt at 4:17, falling into step with him and tossing the paper into the bin as they pass it.

“Hey, _hey_ ,” David switches the tray from his left hand to his right and uses the newly free arm to reach around Kyle’s hip, curling the arm and tugging him closer. Kyle lets himself get tugged and David steps in front of him, right arm stretched out to keep the drinks out of the way. Kyle huffs into his mouth when David tilts his head and closes in. Kyle’s eyes lift to his own and his head shakes once, obviously annoyed by the woman. David bumps his nose against Kyle’s cheek, letting Kyle’s elongated, irritated sigh brush against his mouth.

“ _Don’t be a bitch, man,”_ David murmurs, releasing Kyle’s hip and snatching the suitcase from Kyle’s hand. He swings it behind Kyle’s knees and whirls to Kyle’s left, offering the tray and beginning to walk again. Kyle takes his tea from the cardboard, switches it to his right hand and then takes the rest of the tray from David. Kyle sips his tea thoughtfully as he walks, led by David to the escalators down. David takes them first, leaning back against the railing and propping the suitcase against his knee, letting his right foot drop one step. He turns his torso to face Kyle, who steps down onto the stair with the luggage and David’s left foot, hip brushing along the polished metal. David stares at his ear and thinks about pressing his mouth to it, Kyle stares ahead and thinks about breakfast.

Kyle turns to David then, at 4:19 on a Friday morning halfway down an escalator in an airport, looks him dead in the eye and says matter-of-factly with a nod in the same gravelly, unused and uncleared voice David knows he woke up with, “I would suck your dick for a shortstack and whipped cream.”

David’s mouth drops open and his eyes bulge. He remembers himself, shuts his jaw with a click and blinks twice. “What?” Kyle steps down with his left leg so they’re mirrored, leans in as close as the precariously balanced cappuccino, bagel and tea will let him and tilts his head to fit the words into David’s mouth: “I would suck your dick,” he breathes, eyebrows raising and eyes flicking around David’s. “for a shortstack and whipped cream.”

David stumbles back but there’s nowhere to go. He straightens, coughs, stares outwards for a moment, eyes drying with how wide he’s holding them open. He stutters for a moment, completely blown away.

“Let’s, uh-“ David breathes in through his nose and shuts his eyes for a moment, collecting himself. Clearing his throat, he croaks out, “Denny’s it is, then.” He scoops up the suitcase and descends, taking the stairs almost too quickly. Kyle barks out a laugh then and takes chase, flying down the steps after him. David practically sprints to the sliding doors, skidding out into the pavement and storming down the pavement. Kyle is cackling behind him, jogging to catch up. David slows as they near his car, focussing on the flashing lights as he unlocks it. He pops the trunk and throws the suitcase in to the sound of Kyle’s dumb laughter, shaking his head and yanking the passenger’s side door open. Kyle raises his eyebrows and steps into the car, “ _Thank_ you, David, chivalry _isn’t_ dead,” his voice pitches through so many sarcastic notes David’s head starts spinning and he answers with a gruff “Shove it, _princesa._ ”

David jumps the hood of his car and throws himself into the driver’s seat, barely noticing that Kyle’s carefully laid the bagel in the coin tray and slotted the cups into the holders before slamming the key into the ignition. The car sputters to life, it’s 4:22, and Kyle’s just started pulling his seatbelt forward when David throws the car into reverse. Kyle pitches forwards and cackles. Once the car is straight and coasting through the catacombs of this vehicular graveyard, David is on the edge of his seat, chest against the steering wheel while he watches for signs indicating an exit. The car wheels down the steep cement ramp and Kyle finally clicks in, immediately delving into the backpack he’d settled between his feet. David rams the ticket into the machine and the arm is barely high enough for the car to pass through when David absolutely fucking _obliterates_ the gas pedal.

Kyle slams back into the seat and at 4:25 he stares, looking at David out of the corner of his eye. His hands are still digging around in his backpack and he says without turning his head, “You better have been joking.” David screeches to a stop at a red light.

“I’m sorry?” he asks, incredulous and barely understanding the meaning of the words one by one, let alone the entire sentence. Kyle leans back in his seat, zipping his backpack with his phone in hand.

“We better not actually be on our way to Denny’s.” David checks the light (red as his face is about to be) and pitches forward, leaning on his left forearm to look into Kyle’s face.

“Explain,” he says shortly. Kyle inhales through his nose, turns to him with a stone cold expression and says very slowly, “David. I am not sucking your dick for two tiny-ass, rubbery-ass disks of misfortune with watery cream drizzled all over them in a greasy, grit-smelling diner.” The light turns green but neither of them break. Kyle leans further in, dead serious, and almost threateningly he spits, “You’re driving us to IHOP or you’re pulling over and I’m _walking._ ” Their eyes remain locked until David suddenly understands and cackles, slamming the gas and shaking his head.

“Whatever you want, _su Alteza._ ” It’s 4:28 and David changes course for IHOP, rolling down his window and punching the radio on. Kyle fiddles with it immediately, and it pulls the lopsided grin up even further on David’s face. Kyle rolls his own window down and pushes up the sleeves on his shirt, resting his right elbow on the car door and letting his palm rest against the top of the open window. He faces out into the wind, hair blasting back and chest rising and falling with contentment. David tugs his seatbelt buckle down and locks himself in, taking the off-ramp to another highway with a smooth kind of thrum that only this old beater could give him. Kyle hums the tune of the song playing and David mouths the words he knows, letting the beat sink through him. The sky is lightening, but the sun hasn’t peeked out yet.

David finds his mind clearer than it’s been all summer, he finds himself thinking about how when he gets home he’s going to ask to be put back on waitstaff for the September, thinking about how he’s got to mow the lawn tomorrow, thinking about all the shit he’s going to need to pick up from Staples or whatever for the school year, thinking about orientation week and how he absolutely does not want to go even a little bit, actually, thinking about how easily all of this came to mind, suddenly, thinking about how much he’s missed Kyle and how much it weighed on him, how much he missed seeing him and Stan and Kenny and Butters lounging around the corner booth eating a party-platter of nachos and catcalling him (fuck you Kenny).

He finds himself gently probing his mind for the real answer for his sudden clairvoyance, and skips along the line of thought that he loves his friends, that Craig and Clyde and Kenny and Jimmy and Butters and Token and Stan are all his friends and he loves them, finally settling on the ever-lingering thought of Kyle. Kyle is the bread and butter of living in this shithole, it appears, because now when David looks to his right his mouth responds with a wry grin and his heart jumps. The spreading, convivial heat of the prominent sunbeams slicing warm shafts of orange and gold through the purpling sky flashes into his fingertips and the end of his nose- David is complete and centred again. All aspects of his life come into a sharp, steadying focus and he finds himself able to roll his shoulders and feel tangible relief. David is in love with the sun and the sky and the open open open empty road and the car he drives it in and the ache in the bridge of his foot from refusing to use cruise control and the smell of gasoline and coffee and the synthetic weave of the navy backpack on the floor of the passenger’s seat and with the legs that frame it, with the torso that meets those legs and the heart thumping inside and with Kyle and Kyle and Kyle-

“Oh, _fuck_ yes,” Kyle’s voice breaks with excitement and David’s chest is overfull of emotion and a wet laugh escapes him and he takes the turn into the parking lot and pulls up both windows and he’s barely even stopped before Kyle is throwing open the door and spilling out of the car. He puts the car in park, shuts off the lights and the clock flashes 4:33 before he pulls the key from the ignition. Kyle is practically vibrating on the sidewalk outside the doors, bent to stare at him with an urgent expression while he grabs his backpack from the back and hauls out of the car. Kyle is already whining, “Come _on,_ those pancakes aren’t going to order _themselves_ ,” and David is grinning so hard his face hurts and he sweeps around Kyle, pressing his forearm to the glass door and ushering him inside. They stand before the wooden podium, awaiting the waitress that gave them an apologetic smile holding six little jugs of syrup. David raises a hand and calls out for her to take her time with a grin and he feels Kyle shiver next to him. Kyle is clutching his own backpack with trembling fingers and in a sudden, inexplicable moment of spontaneity David pulls the sack out of his hands, sliding his fingers in between Kyle’s and closing his grip.

The round clock above the window in the back leading to the kitchen shows 4:35 and Kyle immediately responds, clenching his hand and grabbing a fistful of his shirt, stepping into his space and hissing, “David I am going to fucking jizz everywhere they have so many pancakes back there-“ Kyle catches himself and breathes in deeply, releasing David’s shirt but not his hand. He runs a hand through his hair and watches the waitress hurry to them.

“Good morning guys! Just the two of you?” Kyle grins almost ferally and responds in the affirmative. The waitress leans over the podium and grabs two menus from the back, getting caught on the wooden lip of the stand. Her half-apron pulls loose, and she fumbles, still gripping three syrup containers in her left hand and the menus sending her into a wobbling instability. David immediately releases Kyle and drops the backpack in his left hand to between his feet, snatching up the snagged tie from the podium and releasing it from its catch. The woman takes a step back and smiles embarrassedly. David gives her an assuring grin and ties the apron back up himself.

“Thanks! Sorry, it’s been a long night. This way to your table and Cassie will take care of you guys, okay?” She leads them to the far end booth and sets down a syrup kettle and both menus. She turns on her heel at David’s thank you and hurries off. Kyle pulls his backpack out of David’s hand and settles it beside him on the booth, looking out the window and decisively not at David. David leans forward as he sinks into the leather, inclining his head to initiate eye contact with a knowing, “What?”

“I dunno dude whatever,” Kyle doesn’t look at him but the hints of a watery smile play at the corners of his mouth. “If you like that waitress so much why don’t you _marry_ her.”

“Maybe I will, man, I don’t know,” David responds casually, leaning back. Kyle’s head snaps back and he squints.

“At this rate your dick is not gonna get sucked, dude. You have no class.” David scoffs and hisses under his breath,

“I’m not the one talking about sucking dick at-“ he checks his phone- “4:40 in the morning!”

Kyle leans forward and whispers, “And I’m not the one _undressing a woman in a family restaurant-_ “ but his grin is unmistakable and David is starting to crack up.

“Hey! After I _saved_ an _innocent bystander_ from _potential death_ , I expected you to be impressed! Listen buddy, there better be some fucking _lip-to-sack action_ after this, I’m a _hero-“_

“Morning boys! I’m Cassie, I’ll be your waitress this morning. What can I start you off with? I should let you know, we’re only taking cash at the moment, our machine’s broken.” Kyle jumps and David shoots back, neither realizing how close they’d been over the table. David clears his throat and looks down at the menu desperately, gathering his thoughts. Kyle grimaces, touching his backpack thoughtfully.

“Just a water, please-“ and David almost loses his mind.

“Absolutely not. Black coffee and an Earl Grey, please.” Cassie smiles and chirps something David doesn’t hear because he’s drowning in amber, suddenly, and Kyle is hissing something at him but his eyes are warm and watery and so fucking big that David can’t help but cut him off,

“Dude. I got it. No sweat okay?” Kyle shakes his head but David reaches out, going for the shoulder to reassure and instead being met with a hand, having his fingers intertwined and rested on the table. Kyle shakes his head.

“I’ll get you back, okay? I don’t carry cash when I travel-“ David laughs and uses his other hand to brush back the curls tumbling over Kyle’s eyes.

“Dude, forget it.” Kyle leans back with an eye-roll and murmurs,

“Lip-to-sack action, huh?” David snorts and tries to release Kyle’s hand, but Kyle keeps his fingers intertwined. Kyle’s eyes are on the table between them but there’s a soft smile playing on his lips. David scoffs a little and tugs on Kyle’s hand, starting to worry.

“I was joking, man. It’s nothing. I missed hanging out with you, that’s all.” Kyle’s eyes snap to his, suddenly, and with a wild sort of brightness playing in his irises he asks,

“Are you going to the party tonight?” David relaxes, readjusts his grip on Kyle’s fingers and shakes his head.

“Nah. Sounds like the same old shit.” Kyle grins.

“But no other plans?” David squints.

“Why?” The rising excitement in his chest is something he refuses to show but God, does he feel it.

“Nothing, nothing. I’m not going either, I’m jetlagged,” Kyle says, wiggling his eyebrows. David squints harder.

“Iowa is an hour ahead, man,” David says. “What are you jetlagged about? Dinnertime?” Kyle snickers.

“That’s what I’m gonna tell the guys, and then you and I are gonna go to my house and watch whatever shitty movie is on channel 16 and chill.”

“ _Chill?_ ” David is taken aback, and just as he’s about to say something stupid, Cassie returns with a teapot and his coffee. The analog clock read 4:56. She cheerily asks for their orders and Kyle spits out his long-awaited shortstack and whipped cream. She tries to make it a meal or something, David doesn’t really know because he’s staring at Kyle and thinking with his genitals, and when the waitress turns to him to ask If she can get him anything to eat all he says is “Yes.”

They both stare at him until he realizes that he needs to tell her _what_ she can get him to eat and he waves her off with a “Whatever he’s having, plus toast.” She chirps off and David leans in again.

“What kind of chill? What are we talking about here?” Kyle laughs, and upon realizing David’s serious, leans in himself and places his left forearm on the table to better frame David for the news he’s about to spill.

“I want to watch whatever dumb shit comes on the only channel that isn’t the news or MTV and I want to lay on the couch and I want to hang out with you,” Kyle says, staring David down.

“I want to wait until my parents go to bed and Ike does whatever 15 year olds do at night and then when everyone’s fucked off I want to make out and maybe go for like a midnight coffee run, but I haven’t decided on that yet,” Kyle squints at the last bit, losing himself in thought. David, on the other hand, is losing his mind.

“You want to what?”

“I dunno dude, you picked me up from the airport, you held my hand, there was that one thing that happened in May, like, you’ve got my attention, dude. If you don’t want to though it’s chill, I can watch a movie and go for maybe-coffee by myself. No sweat.” David pitches forward and immediately has to sit back as Cassie comes over with their food. Everything in his head is halted while she puts the plates down in front of them at 5:04. He thanks her absent-mindedly. Kyle releases his hand and digs in, shoveling pancake into his mouth at lightspeed with a _filthy_ fucking groan. David’s mouth hangs open as he tries to simultaneously process Kyle making noises like _that_ and the conversation in its entirety just prior and the memories of That Thing that happened in May.

David had been tasked with fixing the walk-in freezer that, following a blackout, had melted all over the floor and then frozen again, meaning half the boxes of frozen food needed to be cooked immediately and the floor was a skating rink. It was like eight pm on a Saturday night in the restaurant and he’d been at it for an hour, trying to sort boxes and not slip and _die_ , when he heard knocking on the door. Kyle was there, grinning and holding a full bottle of whiskey. David let him in and took the whiskey, putting it on the counter and shoving a box of tomatoes into Kyle’s arms. They’d worked until eleven, hauling boxes out of the iced up freezer, shattering the ice on the floor with hammers and then restocking the boxes on shelves. David was just stacking the last set of boxes on the high shelf when Kyle, who had been shovelling shards of ice into an empty garbage can, came up behind him suddenly and shoved his freezing hands under David’s shirt, causing him to jump and them both to tumble to the floor in a damp, cold and cackling.

They sat, tangled and tired on the concrete floor when Kyle remembered the whiskey. He snatched it off the counter beside David, having to scoot forward so his knees were at his chest to reach it. While Kyle worked the cap off, David ran his hands down Kyle’s bent calves, eventually pulling his ankles up and over his own thighs, dragging Kyle closer to him. Kyle, unbothered, locked his ankles behind David’s ass and leaned into him, tearing the plastic off the cap with his teeth. David popped the cap off and took a long swig, letting the fire blast through his throat and tear down his chest. After handing the bottle back, he felt raw, like an exposed nerve, and Kyle kept coming in closer and closer as he knocked it back. Once Kyle’d taken his sip, David pulled it out of his hand and put the bottle to his lips, watching Kyle’s pupils expand and follow the movement. He drank, but kept his eyes on Kyle’s, and when he’d finished Kyle’d stared him down. David handed it back and Kyle stared into the quarter bottle for a moment. Finally, he raised it to his mouth but let his tongue lave over the rim of the bottle, catching the droplets caught in the lip and threading. Then he’d downed the bottle, meeting David’s eyes again.

It fell with a loud clink onto the grey cement beside them when David lunged for him, shoving his tongue into Kyle’s receptive mouth, grabbing fistfuls of hair and shirt and pulling. Kyle dragged himself into David’s lap, hot mouth pressing relentlessly against David’s and body bearing ever-downwards. David tugged him down further and they lay, freezing, drunk and attached on the floor of the walk-in freezer grinding and bumping, limbs wrapping over and under clothes and heads and torsos and what noise came from which throat was incomprehensible. When they parted, Kyle had stood, brushed himself off and hauled David up after him, lips swollen and neck hickeyed to shit. David ran his hands through his hair and then, after a thought, ran his hands through Kyle’s, too, covering his ears with his palms and cradling his face. He kissed him on the cheek and Kyle let his eyes drift shut, tilting his head down. David pulled away, and Kyle followed, neck bent to nuzzle into David’s shoulder. David felt Kyle’s tongue at his ear and let his head fall to give Kyle better access as he moved down and David guessed that did it for Kyle, who grabbed his ass and bit down hard. Kyle pulled away again, ran his hands over his eyes and backed up. He’d eyed David, tongue running over his lip, and David mewed his name, sounding smaller and needier than he could ever remember being. Kyle stumbled back in, backed David into the walk-in freezer and now there’s footage of the two of them making out against a sack of frozen chicken in the CCTV records somewhere. It’s one of David’s fondest memories.

David shakes himself out, sits up and takes a long pull of his coffee. Kyle locks eyes with him and David picks up his fork. It’s 5:05.

“Well,” he says with a faux-long suffering sigh. “You can’t make out with yourself, I guess.” Kyle grins and shovels half a pancake into his mouth. David shakes his head. They eat in relative silence, playing absent-minded footsie under the table and letting free hands brush on the tabletop. David is finished before the pancakes are, mind on the bagel he has in the car and the knowledge that Kyle’s house always had a million things to snack on. He sips his coffee and waits for Kyle to finish.

“What the fuck is wrong with you, man? You’re gonna choke on that,” he mutters at 5:28 after Kyle shoves the last half of David’s toast into his mouth. Chewing, Kyle moves it into his cheek and answers,

“At this rate it’s not the only thing I’m going to be choking on.” David pales, slams both hands on the table and stands.

“Let’s go,” he says firmly, pulling his backpack out and tossing a fifty onto the table. Kyle’s eyes bulge out of his head and he laughs, snatching up his own backpack. David shoves the plates together and stacks the cutlery, keeping the mess minimal as Kyle shifted out of the booth. David barely contains himself to a fast walk and Kyle has to sprint to catch up. David blasts out of the doors and Kyle cackles behind him, reaching his side just as they approach the car.

At 5:30, David snatches Kyle up by the waist and presses him back against the car, moving his mouth to Kyle’s neck. He feels Kyle snickering as he shoves his crotch against Kyle’s thigh. Kyle’s face goes red, David can feel it against his ear, and Kyle grunts into his hair. David lets him kiss behind his ear and whisper something to him he can’t hear due to the blood rushing in his head. David’s left hand is curled over the top of his car and his right arm stays curled around Kyle’s waist, trying to get closer to Kyle than he thought was possible. Kyle has one arm wrapped around David’s neck and one around his back, clutching at his shirt and lips ever-moving. David pulls away from his neck and presses his mouth up into Kyle’s once, feverous and passionate.

They break with a long line of saliva connecting them and David thinks he’s going to pass out. He swats his hand between them and Kyle all but collapses against the car. David wipes his mouth on the back of his arm and rubs the stupid fucking toothpaste off the corner of Kyle’s mouth. Kyle catches his wrist when he goes to pull away, and David steps back into Kyle’s arms. He runs his hands through Kyle’s wild auburn curls and clutches the back of his head, bumping foreheads together and smiling suddenly.

“Yeah,” Kyle whispers. “Lip-to-sack action. I can do that. So long as you’ll watch the movie with me first. It’s probably going to be a super shitty rom-com, it’s Friday.” David kisses him again and shoves him away, towards the passenger door with a wide, stupid smile on his face and another laugh bubbling up from his stomach.

 At 5:32, David murmurs, “Whatever you want, _mi rey_.”

 

**Author's Note:**

> thanks friend


End file.
